


Happily [n]ever After

by SpaceAceAmeko



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean lance, Alzheimers, Degenerative neurological disease, Enjoy the feels, Galra Keith, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I can never write anything shorter than some thousands words so bear with me, I had this idea and thought I’d share it, It’s gonna be long, Kinda, Little to no comfort though, Loss of family/friends, M/M, Major character death : shiro, Post-cannon compliant, Season 8 Spoilers, Second chapter is gonna be like some hurt but major comfort, Slow Burn, Terrorism, and hunk, anti-Galra factions mentioned, biological disease, cannon compliant-ish, dont read if you haven’t watched it, for Your own sake;if you don’t like spoilers, ish, major character deaths: Pidge, minor(?) character death: Coran, natural death, post-post ending?, pseudo-immortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAceAmeko/pseuds/SpaceAceAmeko
Summary: “... I’m not aging.” He says, quietly, as if the realization just dawned on him. And, really, it probably did. Keith didn’t bother to snarkhow could you not notice that?Lance was probably asking that of himself already. Keith grit his teeth, unsurely responding, “Yeah..” Keith takes a step closer, gauging the welcomeness of his presence.





	1. Verisimilitude

**Author's Note:**

> _Hey guys! How’s everybody doing????! DID EVERYONE WATCH SEASON 8 EIGHT YET???_
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> _WELL LEMME TELL YOU._
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> _It was awesome.:3_
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> _I had this thought and wanted to write it. It hurt me a lot, and surely it would hurt you too. In a good way. I think... Good luck! Also, I used Altean forms of time, and thus have provided a helpful guide. (Also added centa-pheob for decade because it makes sense huehue.)_
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> _Thanks for reading! Love you guys! <3 Your kudos and comments keep me alive!<333_
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> _second — tick_  
>  _minute — dobash_  
>  _hour — varga_  
>  _day — quintant_  
>  _week — movement_  
>  _month —pheob_  
>  _year — decapheob_  
>  _decade — centapheob_

At first, after the final battle, it had seemed like everything had fallen into place. Like finally, after decapheobs of squirming and pushing together puzzle pieces, they fit. They’ve done their due diligence, they paid the ultimate sacrifice of a family member, a lover, a friend, and the realities were all put back in their proper place.

 

Voltron, the lions, had disbanded their essence, sinking back into the ether. Joining their creator and daughter. And really… that was kind of like a stamp of finality had been etched onto his being. Voltron wasn’t needed, true; who needs the strongest weapon in the universe when there is universal peace?

 

But..

 

Somehow, it felt as though the thing that connected them the most, had suddenly vanished. And Keith knows that’s not true. _He knows._ But, he couldn’t help feeling that way. Sure, they have the mind-melding technology, but that was nowhere near close to the synergy he feels when they formed Voltron, or even sitting in the cockpit of Red or Black.

 

The biggest purpose of his life— could he say of all their lives?— had been completed. It nearly felt like the ground had been taken from beneath his feet. Of course, he didn’t want to live in war and turmoil, constantly battling. But it also wasn’t like he gave forethought to what he was going to do post-war. Does one even have the time to wonder what they are to do during times of war and turmoil? Doesn’t one just focus on living and surviving  another quintant?

 

Pidge and their family had started to build the next generation of Legendary Defenders in succession. It was fitting, really. Neither knew if and when another uprising would happen. When he thinks about it, having the next generation of Legendary Defenders is a lot like having car insurance. You barely use it, but you still go through the lengths to have it _just in case_ anything happens. The technological advances they have made have dramatically changed the face of the universe. Combing Altean technology with that of her and her family’s intellect had made travel around the universe a relatively peaceful and quick thing.

 

Hunk, of course, created his own culinary empire. Keith always had a feeling that was what he was going to do after the war. It seemed like both Hunk and Pidge always knew what purpose they would go back to. Hunk was always cooking them something in his spare time, somehow able to turn unusable gunk into something pleasant tasting. He has had many head-butting societies calmed to talk out their differences in an agreeable manner with his food, and of course, the small lesson that without the neighboring planets working together, he would have never been able to make the food. As Hunk always said, people _are_ more agreeable when they’re full.

 

_“Honestly, I think that’s because when they’re sufficiently stuffed, it kind of makes them go into hibernation mode and people typically don’t have defences up when they feel safe and sleepy.”_

 

Keith couldn’t agree more. Lance had always been more pleasant to him after a good meal, especially if it was Hunk’s meal.

 

The thing that amazed Keith the most was that Shiro had actually left the Atlas altogether. Shiro had always been that person Keith looked up to. He was like a brother to him, really. Shiro had never given up on him and he’d managed to break through his course exterior. So he honestly thought that Shiro would be as lost as himself when everything settled. But it seems he didn’t know Shiro as well as he thought he did. And he was kind of glad for that, because why would anyone (aka him), sit abroad the Atlas and search for meaning after war when one could go find the love of their life and actually _have_ a life? Damien was an amazing guy, and he was blessed to have Shiro in his life. They’re great together, both level-headed. Keith was glad he and the other paladins were the best men and woman at his wedding.

 

Lance had settled into a relatively peaceful life. And by relatively he means _entirely._ Back on earth with his family, surrounding himself with things that he loved and spreading Allura’s message and story. He grew entire juniberry fields in remembrance of her. He’s made a plethora of things out of them, too, over the decapheobs. He remembers the tea that he’d been given. Now, Keith wasn’t that big a tea person, opting for the caffeine-kicking coffee whenever he wanted it, but it surprised him to know that juniberries were naturally sweet, as Lance explained, and thus didn’t need any kind of sweetener that could otherwise distort the flavor. It was fruity, kind of, something along the lines of pomegranate and strawberry, both each and neither at the same time. He’d fermented it before, too, creating a gentle low-alcoholic brew for Pidge’s twenty first birthday when they came together to celebrate Allura’s life.

 

Of course, he didn’t make enough of it for any of them to be plastered, and at least it didn’t taste as nasty as nunvill. Even decapheobs later, in Keith’s adulthood, he couldn’t stand the taste of it. Although Coran was right, it made an amazing hair tonic. Which, of course, Lance had repurposed _with_ juniberries to create a face toner. He doesn’t tell Lance this, but he uses it every morning. Lance was right (something he’ll probably never say to his face), it did wonders to his skin.

 

Keith, himself, was a bit lost following the speech he gave at the Kral Zera. Not that it was obvious, but he felt as if he were stumbling through life. And even though he was asked to become the Galran representative to the Galactic Coalition, he didn’t feel as though _that_ was his purpose. He just… sure, he might’ve made a half-decent leader of Voltron, but he was backed by his team, _his family,_ for all intents and purposes. If he was the representative, he wouldn’t be working with them, having their support. He would have Krolia and Kolivan, yes, but, that’s different. _It is._

 

With the lion’s quintessence sinking back into the ether, the connected consciousness of all existence, he felt as though he was being abandoned, though he knows that’s not true. But, in a way… it doesn’t matter, really. Keith would have to just get used to piloting without the whisper of a conscious brushing against his mind. It just.. he feels lonely without it. All those decapheobs, the battle, the turmoil he’s ever felt, helped along only with the help of a soundless voice.

 

So, really, when he started to turn the Blade of Marmora into a humanitarian relief organization, he was really only trying to continue along the same line. He was with the Blades in between being Black Paladin anyway. He knew the people (somewhat, although with the massacre of the Blades by Macidus, most of the Blades were now new), and with the start of its new mission, Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid had graciously agreed to come on board. Keith’s hypothesis was that Axca had said she wanted to come along, and Ezor was her best friend, and so, of course Ezor came, and thus pulled Zethrid along since Zethrid would follow Ezor to the ends of the earth if she could. They have an easy camaraderie, he thinks. All half-breed Galra freaks doing the gracious and humble works of the world, repaying society for all the atrocities their kind has wrought through the millennia.

 

But it wasn’t _Voltron,_ you know? They weren’t the other paladins. It was a completely different dynamic. They haven’t fought together. Against each other, maybe...

 

Anyway. Keith spent way too much time thinking about the what was. But maybe that was because of the things that happened, following. It had been obvious to see the marks left by Allura in their final moment together. The light blue complementing nicely to his tan skin. What had not been obvious, however, was something that Keith was only starting to see now, a decapheobs later.

 

Even if it weren’t for the turmoil and lost-ness he felt, he would still have noticed it. Galra have obnoxiously long life expectancies, after all.

 

It started with Pidge. As the decapheobs crept up on all of them, Pidge sprouted in height, as she was still in the growing phase during the war. Technological and medical advances have made it so that the human race lives far longer than it ever had, as it typically does. But nevertheless, there is still a lot about the human mind and body that they have yet to understand. So when Pidge’s memory started to get fuzzy thirty decapheobs later, they all thought that it was the typical age-related forgetfulness. They teased her just enough before cheering her up.

 

It started with something innocuous, like forgetting to reply to a message or call. As even if she took weeks to respond, she typically did. However, when she never responded and then picked up the next call, she couldn’t think of the time that she ever read the message to begin with. And when it moved to her forgetting scheduled times to hang out with the team, they all became worried.

 

Pidge most of all.

 

 _Alzheimer’s_ was cured right after the Third World War, after all. Or, so they thought. The cases of people with the disease was so few and far in between that people forget the disease still exists.

 

After grueling tests and nights spent stressing over waiting on extensive lab results, scratching up her arms to try and contain the anxiety that she could possible forget her team— _her family,_ after taking all tests known to man and alien kind, and even after getting checked through the med-pods on Altea, they still were no closer to an answer.

 

Pushing away the inevitable, Pidge threw herself into her work. She spent countless nights, when she wasn’t being a lab rat herself, holed up in her study to further technology into something like never before before her time was up. It was probably terrible to say that this was what brought the team together for longer than a few quintants at a time. They had nearly put all their lives on hold to help Pidge in this difficult time. They had helped her around her lab while she threw herself into her work. Reminded her when she already said an idea, or if she wanted to start a new experiment that she had already done.

 

Facing her own challenges and feeling of failure at forgetting such important and self-diagnosed ineptitude, she would often lash out. Her outbursts were to be expected, who wouldn’t feel that way? And the more time that passed, the more options she’d tried, the more mounds of tests she’d undergone, the worst her outbursts got.

 

A decapheob later, Keith couldn’t help but notice the twitch on her hand and wrist. Pidge didn’t even notice it. And when she did… it was not pretty. The worst thing was, was that her health deteriorated quite quickly after that. The new medicinal advances slowed it down— just barely. The surgeries, the medications. It devastated them all. Pidge’s parents had already passed from the natural cause of old age a few decapheobs prior, and so it was just her and Matt and the Voltron team.  Pidge never married or had children, biological or adopted, and only ever had Chip, her AI. Pheobs later the shaking in her hands had gotten so bad she could barely hold a pencil, and even then, had difficulty writing just one word.

 

And all Keith could do is watch on, completely useless because he wasn’t smart like the others, not in the same way. He didn’t know a thing about technology, and he wasn’t a doctor. Hunk could at least provide her with sustenance that could help her. He watched on, barely noticing how Hunk’s hair slowly started to grey over the decapheobs. It started with just a few strands, at first, pulled back by his headband as the disease took Pidge’s ability to conduct experiments. On himself, he only saw worry lines at his eyes and brow, but beyond that his hair didn’t grey and his reflexes didn’t suffer.

 

It was only at Pidge’s funeral, after coming to a heart-rending decision to follow Pidge’s medical direction for a physician-assisted suicide when she was finally lucid and in the moment enough to ask and sign for one, that Keith finally noticed that… besides the same worry lines across Lance’s face, the bags under his eyes from little to no sleep, Lance looked nearly the same as he did thirty decapheobs ago.

 

It was a startling observation.

 

And it seemed like he was the only one to have noticed it, by then.

 

Keith didn’t bother addressing it anytime soon. He thought, maybe, it was just a trick of his imagination. Like the rest of the others during this time, he didn’t sleep. And when he did, they were fitful and restless at best. And around Pidge’s casket, Hunk and Lance clutching at each other and desperately weeping, it certainly wasn’t the time to voice such an oblivious observation. Shiro stood with Damien, somber and quiet, wiping off the falling tears only when they seemed to get in the way of his view of his friend.

 

And there Keith stood, between the married couple and the former leg of Voltron and his right hand man. Matt had been a disaster, as had Coran, who was seeing the beginnings of grey hair after decapheobs of being alive. Alteans had obnoxiously long life expectancies, too. Krolia and Kolivan had come, as well, putting aside their representative duties to support Keith and pay respects to a fallen defender. They’ve kept in touch, and although Keith had never been one to divulge in his feelings, Krolia always knew what was up.

 

Keith now knew why the humans of old said these diseases not only claimed the lives of its victims, but also the lives of their families. Not because they, too, had the disease, but because like a disease, the disorder steals away the life of them; in time given to the victim to provide support, in money spent on medications. Peacefulness, stripped in a matter of ticks, dobashes, vargas, quintants, movements, pheobs, decapheobs, _centapheobs,_ right to the bone like someone had just taken a cleaver to the skin. Layer by layer, it burns off the happiness and normality of their life and replaces it with this: never-ending anxiety, inability to be autonomous in all the ways a human _yearns_ to be.

 

Keith felt a hand on his shoulder and he glances up from the peacefulness of her face, surrounded by juniberries and lilies and gladioli, all white save for the juniberries. It was Lance, wiping away tears before pulling Keith in for a hug and suddenly Keith felt overwhelmed with all the emotions he never let himself ponder on and he took the embrace for what it was supposed to be: comfort. He gripped Lance tight to himself, grabbing onto fist-fulls of Lance’s coat jacket, and he lets himself cry. He wasn’t much of an emotions person, ask anybody. But when he felt, when he finally _expressed,_ his body wouldn’t let him do it normally. It was a tsunami, coming and destroying everything in its wake. It might’ve started silent, a hitch of breath, before the avalanche came.

 

Keith felt himself be hugged by another person, and then another, until he couldn’t tell who was around him and who wasn’t. All he knew, was that Lance was there. Lance had reached out first. And he was grateful.

 

It took another few movements spent in mourning before they had been gently nudged to go back to their lives by the demand of their services. As great as their apprentices were, they wanted _them,_ their leaders.

 

It wasn’t all bad, though. After the first few quintants spent crying until they could physically cry no more, they held a great feast in her honor back on Altea. A plaque was placed along the border of Allura’s statue commending her contribution to today’s life. It was filled with love, and life, and tears, of course. Remembering all the Voltron antics they were up to. The silly time she and Lance fished for GAC in a fountain at the intergalactic mall so they could buy a game console. That time when she and Hunk pranked Shiro by blowing up a color-powdered balloon in his face that had him stained for weeks. All the times she was still too short to reach the top shelf in the kitchen.

 

It was all blanketed over with a somber tone. The loss of life a heavy thing to deal with, no matter who or where or what and no matter which universe. In a sense, her death had been more jarring and debilitating than Allura’s sacrifice ever was. Seeing a loved one’s declining health is on a whole new level. For all the paladins knew and thought of, Allura’s sacrifice had actually been pleasant for her in the moment. It’s easier to come to terms with something when you haven’t seen the grueling end.

 

Not that Keith didn’t think about her death and how painful it could have potentially been. Having to contort Honerva’s vessel into a life-giving force. How her own life and essence could have been stripped molecule by molecule from her. But he pushes those thoughts away. Allura walked into the light. She joined her father and the paladins of old. She joined the legends. How could looking like she had walked into heaven _ever_ make him want to think about how painful physically, spiritually, and mentally it could have been? She may be gone but there was no body to mourn.

 

Following the next few decapheobs, their lives got a little easier to live.

 

It was… It feels wrong and abysmal to say that her death had actually lightened their mental and emotional capacities. But it was scary how the psyche gets used to ideas. Hunk went back to his culinary empire, Shiro went back to his quiet and lovely life with Damien, and Lance went back to his farm where only a few of his family members still remained. And Keith? Keith, of course, went back to managing the Blade of Marmora. And he wonders, briefly, once the relief effort is no longer needed, if he was going to feel the same never-ending disquietude that he felt when the lions sunk back into the void of space. His obnoxiously long life expectancy may let him live long enough to see it and it causes a feeling great desolation that he would be the only one alive from his old team.

 

To go through that, alone, he didn’t think he would make it.  

 

But of course, as is typical of Keith, he shoved that thought way into the back of his mind and whenever it reared its ugly head, he beat it down with a metaphorical metal bat and threw himself into his work.

 

They had only started seeing each other marginally more often than before Pidge’s untimely death. Instead of a few times a decapheob, it was quarterly, like clockwork, interspersed with a message of _how are you doing? Healthy? Sleeping better? I’m worried. Ya know, same ol’ same ol’. Hey, it’s about time we get together, wouldn’t you say?_ And thus began their marginally more frequent visits, each worried that something like what happened to Pidge would happen to them. They had planned for something like that, they had braced themselves for another one of their team falling prey to a degenerative disease that they hardly thought about what else could happen.

 

That was why Shiro’s death hit them like Honerva’s syncline-accolade hybrid.

 

They steeled themselves against the wrong thing.

 

Shiro and Damien had been on their long overdue third honeymoon on a supposedly peaceful planet. Enjoying the beaches of Pluutari when there had been an attack on the multitudes of tourist there. A faction of a self-anointed anti-Galra movement, despite the advancements made for equality. The reports states that Damien died in the blast, but Shiro had survived it, survived the drive to the hospital in excruciating pain, lived through the arduous surgery, only to die at the hands of a mole that injected a small, _innocuous_ little air bubble into his veins.

 

When he had learned of this, Keith had seen red.

 

Much like at the beginning, when his emotions clouded his judgement. When his loneliness took the form of anger and bitterness and pure, unadulterated denial of his jealousy at those who had what he had lost or never had to begin with.

 

Keith tracked them down in a few short pheobs, _decimated_ their “stronghold.” They were just lucky that Lance had been able to get to Keith before he thrust his blade through the fucker’s eye socket— the leader they call Khurnal. The others around him were inconsequential. They were gruntment, sycophants, sucking-up fucking _doormats_  for the leader’s gain. _He_ had ordered and provided the opportunity. _He_ got together the ingredients needed to make the bomb, and thus the deranged so-called _leader_ deserved all of Keith’s unbridled fury. The others might’ve died in his wake, slashing through them with a single-mindedness he had only felt in battle, pushing them harder than necessary to incapacitate them. Bodies littered the base of the group, barely fifty people all together. And Khurnal was sitting on the floor, cowering back against the wall with the tip of Keith’s blade nearly touching the sclera of his eye, he dare not even blink for fear of cutting his lids.

 

Lance stood half in front of him, pushing his shoulder back enough that even with Keith’s extended reach, that was as far as the blade would go.

 

“Don’t do it, Keith.. It’s not worth it.” Lance said, voice gravely with the depth of emotions and Keith had been too high on his rage that Lance would even _think_  of trying to stop him, that he completely didn’t even realize that Lance actually _did._

 

Even though Keith held a relatively slim physique, Keith was always physically stronger. Galra genes and all that. Lance, as buff as he was, didn’t stand a chance in pure strength. But there he was, keeping Keith from _physically moving._

 

 _“That fucker killed Shiro!”_ Keith screams, one more time trying to push himself forward if only to take out his eye. And again, Lance keeps him put. He pushes Keith gently backwards, at little increments at a time, until the edge of Keith’s blade was no longer threatening to pierce the alien’s eyeball and he fainted with a sigh of a relieved breath. _“Lance!”_ Keith screamed, trying to push once more but Lance kept him still, opting instead to wrap his arms around Keith and keep him in a bone-crushing hug. It forced all the air out from Keith’s lungs and before Keith knew it, he drops his blade and clings to Lance like a lifeline.

 

Keith drops his blade in favor of gripping Lance’s jacket, anything his hands could grip to pull him tighter against him. It clatters to the ground and reverts back to the small dagger, now laying useless in a sea of hurting bodies. So caught up in his own despair that he didn’t see Hunk peeking into the room, a team of new cadet-defenders shuffling in to subdue any terrorists that weren’t already passed out and take them away, carefully avoiding the duo in the room that clung to each other like their lives depended on it.

 

Keith doesn’t think he would have regretted taking a life. Not that fucker’s, anyway. But he guessed this is just what made Lance, Lance. And now he sees how perfect Lance was to spread Allura’s message of life and love and serenity. How precious even just one life is, no matter how atrocious the person it belonged to was. Keith’s quick hunting skills of the terrorist group, however, had a positive effect on the rest of the small growing factions. Rumors spread like wildfire and they dismantled themselves pretty quickly, each and every one placing importance on self-preservation first.

 

Shiro’s body was cremated and the ashes held in an urn, decorative but useless, as Keith didn’t bother to store his ashes above a fireplace or someplace equally stupid. No, Keith decided to instill Lance and Hunk’s help to obtain a funeral that Shiro would want. Shiro might never had outwardly expressed it, but he loved the sea like he loved the stars. He loved the sun and the moon in equal measure. And for one thing, Keith was sure, Shiro absolutely adored Hawai’i.

 

So at sunset a movement later, after they had all cried all the tears they had to give, Keith, Hunk, Lance, and even Coran set out on the surfboards into the ocean off the shore of Poipu Beach. Keith held the urn tight, moving at a glacial space to where the others have already formed a circle. Lance to his right, Hunk to his left, and Coran across from him, for once not looking jolly and cheerful, trying to find the silver lining in the situation and for that Keith was grateful. He felt as pulled taut as a bow string, ready to snap again.

 

Hunk grabs his hand and Keith follows, grabbing Lance’s until their small circle is complete. He felt as if this was an out-of-body experience. As Hunk starts to chant, his voice melodic despite his aging years, Keith feels his eyes well up with tears and overflow. They drop soundlessly into the sea and Keith takes his hand from Hunk to start spilling the ashes into the sea until not a piece of ash is left, spreading them through the water. Keith only wished he had Damien’s ashes, as well, to spread them together into the ocean. To let them both rest in peace.

 

Here, in the middle of night and day, between the sun and the stars, was were Shiro belonged. _Dusk was where he belonged_ he thought as he bit his lip harshly to keep the sobs from sounding, adding his own lei and flower petals to float atop the water. Juniberries.

 

Juniberies seem to be a growing constant in his life.

 

They spent the night on the beach, Hunk cooking them barbeque in between singing and intermittently playing the ukulele. They had a bonfire going, the beach empty except for them and a few others that joined following the funeral. Krolia and Kolivan, Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid, Matt and Shay. Shiro’s existence has had many an impact on people’s lives, but those who he had impacted the most during the service are nearly all dead, save for the few on the beach. No relatives, no children. Keith sat on the heavy log in front of the fire, Lance to his side, attempting to sing along with the lyrics he found on his phone and butchering all the pronunciation. Coran had finally started to perk up, noticing how the singing turned upbeat.

 

Keith smiles, just barely, leaning into Lance’s side for comfort. He felt like he needed it like he needed air. He didn’t know how touch-starved he was until now. How desperate for a friend, and yeah, he could blame it on the situation. On the fact his _brother_ is dead. The one constant, stable thing he’s had in his life in the beginning. But quietly and to himself, he can admit what he had wanted it his entire life and just never knew how to ask for it. Lance puts an arm around his shoulder, pressing Keith into his side in a show of camaraderie.

 

It was then that Keith notes, with trepidation, that Lance had yet to see a growing grey hair. Whereas Hunk, he notes as he looks to the Samoan who piled food upon food onto plates, had a full head of it. His face showing signs of aging; wrinkles at his eyes and cheeks. His body moving less and less with the agility Keith had gotten used to seeing on him. Hunk was still upbeat and expressive, but the movements were stilted by old age when he cooks. Enthusiasm could only get you so far when old age starts to creep up on you. Even Coran, now, started showing the same signs. Not as quickly or as advanced as Hunk, but nevertheless. Saying things like _my back’s not what it used to be_ and _I feel like a snorgle’s blartsha._

 

And yet again, Keith does not bring it up.

 

Following the funeral, Keith couldn’t just go back and throw himself into work, the relief effort, no matter how hard he tried. He was lost, in a completely different way, and without the support of the last two remaining paladins, he sunk a little deeper into melancholy. With only three of them left, their visits gained frequency. Whereas before it was a little more than quarterly, it was now every pheob. It was hard to know when the last of them would fall, and they didn’t want to miss another chance to spend time with each other.

 

The close proximity, however, alerted Lance of the very obvious way Shiro’s death had taken a toll on Keith’s health. Already sleepless and stressed, his appetite dropped and the darkness of the bags under his eyes increased. And that was when Lance decided to kidnap Keith to his farm. He said it would be good for him, to get away from the stress, especially now that small groups of people have been dissenting. Keith agreed, although he put up a front that he was reluctant. Can’t have people think he’s a Mess™, now can he?

 

It was… nice, to be so close to him and Hunk at any one point in time. Hunk came over at least once a movement, as his vision starts to worsen and movements start to slow. He still cooks, but it’s hard. Keith’s heart clenches for him. Keith didn’t know how he would have survived not being able to move around like he used to, like he still can. But maybe it would have been different it he were a human with a human life-span of 150 years instead of the gajillion he has left in him. Maybe he would have slowed down, smelled the juniberries, settled down with someone nice and enjoyed his senility.

 

But he wasn’t human, and he didn’t seem to be going senile anytime soon.

 

Life blends the decapheobs into something indiscernible. He heard, once, that the reason why childhood went by fast was because at eight years old, you are living one eighth of your life. But one eighth is nothing compared to when you’re twenty, where you have now lived one twentieth of your life. And the older you get, the smaller that pheob is compared to the life you have lived. One pheob passing does not weigh the same as you get older.

 

Hunk had been devastated by Shay’s passing the decapheobs prior to his 141st birthday. They had buried her in the Balmera, encased in live crystals that eat away at her body, returning her back to where she came from. It took him a few pheobs, and it was easy to see the cloud of heaviness over Hunk’s heart and mind, but after a full decapheob, he started to look at the world differently. The speed at which he moved might’ve suffered, but his vitality did not. He began smiling more, making more jokes. At this point, he had moved in with Lance and Keith at Lance’s home on earth. And though Keith felt a lot more upbeat this time around when Hunk was fooling around with them like they were once teenagers, he still declined coming back to the Blade of Marmora when Axca asked. At this point, it would be unclear when he would finally, if ever, come back to the Blade. With Hunk’s life coming to an end, it will just be him and Lance left. Coran, too, perhaps, if he wasn’t also in decline. And if Lance would feel anything like what Keith felt when he lost Shiro, he would 100% need to stick around. Not just to return the favor, but to show Lance that he was still here, with him, and he wasn’t going to go off by himself and brood in a dark corner of the known universe somewhere.

 

It was only after they cooked for him (pasta slightly oversalted, cookies for dessert that were a tad too sweet), that Lance finally addressed what Keith had noticed since Pidge’s funeral. He sat alone in the darkness of the living room in the dead of the night. Hunk had long since gone to bed and Keith often had trouble sleeping at night, his body far too used to the idea of being up when the stars are.

 

It had startled him, at first. Lance had always went to bed between 2300 and 0100 vargas, and typically awakens just after the sun rose to greet the earth. So, yeah, Keith jumped a little too high and jerked a little too hard when he saw Lance sitting in the dark while he was trying to get a glass of water. He wasn’t watching anything, wasn’t reading, wasn’t asleep. Lance stared straight dead ahead, a look Keith can’t describe etched into his matured face. Keith furrows his brow, daring to step just a bit closer from the hallway to be in his peripheral vision.

 

“... Lance..?” He dares to speak, voice just above a whisper even though he doubts Hunk would wake up no matter how loud he talked. Lance doesn’t say anything for the longest time, sitting back straight in the middle of the couch, hands resting on his knees. His lips purse and then his eyes slide to Keith. It takes him another moment before he speaks.

 

“... I’m not aging.” He says, quietly, as if the realization just dawned on him. And, really, it probably did. Keith didn’t bother to snark _how could you not notice that?_ Lance was probably asking that of himself already. Keith grit his teeth, unsurely responding, “Yeah..” Keith takes a step closer, gauging the welcomeness of his presence.

 

 _“How?”_ Lance breathes, voice stretched just a bit too thin to not be on the verge of a breakdown. Keith comes closer until he’s settled on the couch next to him. “How did I not notice..?” _How did I not notice I stayed the same while all my friends around me started to die?_ “I—” Lance takes another breath and Keith takes his hand, threading his own fingers through Lance’s and giving them a squeeze. Lance squeezed back with such intensity Keith was amazed Lance didn’t break his hand. It was definitely not human strength.

 

Confusion laid like a thick blanket on his mind and body, crushing his lungs in the process as the finality of what would happen sinks in.

 

Lance was going to watch his best friend die.

 

And there was nothing he nor Keith could do about it. Nor Coran, or Krolia, Kolivan, or Blade of Marmora’s chain of command.

 

The first hiccup was quiet, and Keith held Lance’s hand tighter, feeling his own chest squeeze at the prospect of both watching Hunk die and watching Lance go through that. The second was louder and it broke the silence like a hot knife through butter. Lance leaned his head against Keith’s shoulder, sinking into his body like life was being drained from him. Lance had always kept Keith up, like a pillar of strength. And even during times of grieving he would still emit energy of hope and life. The more he sobbed, the louder it got, and the more he turned into Keith for comfort. Keith let go in order to hug Lance to him, crushed in their embrace.

 

The collar of his shirt started to soak and Keith cups the back of his head, an attempt at providing comfort. How can one organ squeeze so much by itself? So, Keith let himself cry. Because he’s reminded of Pidge, and Shiro, and Allura, of the lions and how _nothing_ they do would ever undo the past. Could never rewrite the pain they went through with the falling of their family. Lets himself cry because, maybe, just maybe, when Hunk does pass, he would have already cried all the tears he had to give. Lets himself cry for the unknown future ahead. Lets himself cry for Lance, going through what only he should have gone through.

 

They stay on the couch, wrapped in each other’s comforting embrace, hearts broken in twain and praying for the life of them to be able to at least combine their hearts and souls to be able to bear the weight of the world together, lessen the burden and stress. Their tears dried up come morning and they spent another varga just lying there before getting up with sore bones and muscles to wash up their faces and put on a smile for Hunk, cooking him mounds of bacon and sausage and french toast and all other breakfast food he could ever love.

 

They didn’t really talk about it, Hunk’s life coming to an end. But Hunk had hinted on what he wanted to happen, and that was why they were taking a trip to the Balmera, because they didn’t know how long he had, but it certainly wasn’t much, and they wanted Hunk to live out the last quintants of his life the way _he_ wants.

 

They bunked up somewhere deep in the tunnels, surrounded by their Balmeran friends. The beds were made for humans, of course, they weren’t going to let an elderly man like Hunk sleep on the ground-like beds they have. They were perfect for Balmerans, not so for humans. It was a few pheobs later, watching Hunk get steadily weaker, but no less cheerful, that they were down to the final vargas. They put on a brave face for him, eyes rimmed red from crying the night prior and lying that it was because of the little sleep they got from making preparations.

 

Hunk’s passing was the gentlest of all their dearly departed friends.

 

Laying in bed surrounded by people he loved. Reclined back and speech starting to slow and slur, gentle smile on his lips. His eyes dropping occasionally, like he forgot he was to stay awake. Keith leaned into Lance’s side, arm around his waist while Lance kept one in solidarity around his shoulders.

 

It was like Hunk had fallen asleep, save for the snoring and occasional murmur of sleep-talking he used to do. He let out one last breath of air, and Keith could have sworn that he saw his spirit be released into the ether, to meet up with their team in heaven, or the center of the universe, or wherever they believed they would all end up together.

 

Keith might’ve cried enough for a lifetime, but still tears fell for his comrade in arms, his friend, his brother and family. But he was glad that, at the very least, the universe allowed them one peaceful death among them. He needed that. At least one. Who knows how Keith would have reacted if Hunk was taken from them abruptly with a terrorist attack or from a biological disease.

 

They spent the many quintants following in a wake for Hunk. They brought his body to the heart of the Balmera where they lay him down to be encased in the Balmera’s live crystals. It was very beautiful. The colors ranged from reds and blues to his signatures yellows. An aurora of colors, sparkling and glistening around the cave of the heart. They could hear the call of other Balmeras that had congregated to celebrate his life and great contribution. It was like a song of the sea, of whales of the earth. A final swan song to see Hunk to the afterlife.

 

Not many pheobs later, Coran, too, passed. It seems that when the way Alteans age, they stay youthful into old age, before deteriorating rapidly.

 

One by one, the people at the table by Allura’s statue counted down, until there was only two. The others memorialized in their plaques that joined Allura’s statue. It felt lonely, that they had started with such a big family and how it tapered off. How they seemed to be gone within a blink of an eye. The table was too big for only two people, so they got rid of it. And every pheob, they lay down a thick blanket and have a simple meal. Lance was a good cook, but he wasn’t Hunk. Besides, simple is better, Keith decides. It reminds him that he has Lance left, and Lance has him.

 

Keith doesn’t go back to the Blade of Marmora, and he doesn’t intend to.

 

The quintant he awoke to a bad dream, was the quintant he saw Lance sitting still on the couch again, staring into a mirror with a perturbed looked on his face. It wasn’t the typical look he takes as he looks at his face in the mirror, nor was it narcissistic in nature. Keith waits to be noticed, but the silence drags on.

 

Then, finally, “...I’m not aging.” He says, quieter than before, less alarmed like the dawning of realization and instead echoing of a sober acceptance.

 

“Yeah…” Keith replies, because he doesn't know what else to say. What _could_ he say? Keith takes his seat beside him, looking into the mirror, big enough to have them both in the reflection.

 

Both had matured, worry lines at their eyes and brow, dark bags under their eyes. Lance’s jaw had squared just a little, as he takes after his mother. The Altean marks now bring a sense of foreboding of an unknown future, Keith thinks. Or maybe they would have if Lance had noticed earlier. If he had the forethought and knowledge Keith had that the mark didn’t seem to be just for show. He might’ve reacted worse to the deaths of their friends, knowing he would have to live through the deaths of each one of them.

 

Keith takes the handheld mirror from Lance’s hand gently and placed it face-down on the coffee table, tired of looking at their incipient immortality. Lance heaves a breath, eyes looking at the back of the mirror. Keith threads his fingers through Lance’s, squeezing gently and leaning back against the plush couch. Lance follows suit, if only because the energy seemed to have been drained from him and Keith had tugged on his arm and he fell back, pressed side-to-side. Keith leans his head against Lance’s shoulder and he feels Lance’s head lean on top of his. Briefly, Keith is glad he had washed his hair earlier that night. And he could admit now that if he needed to choose his primary love language, it was physical touch and he was sure it was Lance’s as well. These implicit touches, the hugs, a pat on the back, had grown drastically frequent in number the more they had lost and Keith sinks into them, glad he had at least one person with him, going through what he was going through… Even at the expense of Lance’s prolonged suffering.

 

They’ll figure this out, in time.

 

Together.


	2. Omnipotence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lance’s song for Keith: Never Apart by Benny_
> 
> _Keith’s song for Lance: Slow Burn by Made in Heights_

(2/ 2)

_ Omnipotence _

__

 

Sitting on the couch in the dead of the night is not something Lance did often. Or at all, really. But he had this niggling feeling in the back of his mind that something was missing. There was something off, something terribly skewed in his world and the understanding came like a crushing reality. 

 

How many years had he lived, that he didn’t feel the fatigue of old age? How many times did he look in the mirror, grin at himself, maybe shoot some finger guns at his reflection, and not even note how he stayed the same while his friends started to grey?

 

He wasn’t stupid, no, but somehow, he had missed something so big. Something so in-your-face that it seemed laughable. And it was not only he, he thinks, that did not notice. He didn’t think Pidge, or Shiro, or Hunk, or Coran, or maybe even Keith noticed how he didn’t age. How the wrinkles on his face didn’t form, how his skin retained its elasticity and vibrancy. 

 

How could Lance not notice? It wasn’t an active thought, he thinks. Because he didn’t think anything of Allura’s passing gift, he thought he would be growing at the steady pace humans can and he would reach the end of his life around the same time as his friends. He had such a belief for that, that he just thought he had good genes from his parents. His parents were young-looking well into their hundreds. 

 

Lance could blame it on the fact that the gang didn’t really hang out, at first. He couldn’t compare his non-aging to his friends. And when Pidge was going through things, everyone looked haggard and frazzled, him included, and they were all still pretty young when she passed. 

 

Later, after Shiro’s death, Lance could blame it on the fact that the person he spent the most time with was Keith. And he barely aged at all, even after seventy-two years. So the only person he had to compare his aging to was Keith. Sure, Hunk had come around plenty of times, but he was always so upbeat and full of life that Lance  barely even noticed him slowly climbing up on the ages. 

 

Maybe he had blinders on. Maybe he subconsciously didn’t want to accept what he was seeing and what could possibly be happening. Maybe he was just ridiculously oblivious.

 

Truth is, he could blame it on a lot of things. But it was far too late for blame, far too late.

 

It wasn’t like Lance was stupid. He was just.. It wasn’t something that had entered into his mind, then. 

 

Lance didn’t think anything of the Altean marks Allura left behind when they kissed. He had thought they were cosmetic, like Allura had charmed his quintessence under his eyes to change form and color. Why would he or anyone else suspect it to be anything more than a cosmetic reminder of Allura always being with him? 

 

Hunk didn’t say anything either, or Shiro, or maybe even Keith didn’t notice the short life span of their friends. Or so he thought, until Keith came through the dark corridor. 

 

“...I’m not aging.” He says, just above a whisper, the moment reality starts to creep up on him. The crushing of his lungs with the weight of verisimilitude, the consequences he would have to deal with. From the corner of his eye, Lance sees Keith purse his lips unsurely. 

 

“Yeah…” He whispers, and for a moment Lance couldn’t breathe.  _ Keith knows. _ He  _ saw. _

 

_ And he never said anything. _

 

Through a brief moment of inward hysteria, he blamed Keith. Why couldn’t he just tell him, hey, Lance, don’t you think it’s weird that you haven’t aged yet..? Or, like, hey Lance, I think Allura’s magic did more than just change you cosmetically; he doesn’t know. He would’ve taken  _ anything.  _ Any kind of hint. Any secular insight into his condition. 

 

Not that he would have known what to do with this information, if he had received it. If anyone would have told him. Maybe he just wanted someone to blame, thinking he wouldn’t have freaked out even more than he was now that his best friend’s death is staring him straight in the face like a yawning chasm of despair.  _ Would  _ he have handled it better? Knowing he was to outlive all his friends? Except for Keith, maybe. Or would he have cried more tears than he had when he had not known? Would he have fallen into a depression with that knowledge, unable to persist in spreading Allura’s word with the knowledge of outliving his friends hanging over his neck like a guillotine because he surrounded himself with the things and people he loved and his team fell into the category of people he loved?

 

_ “How?” _ Lance breathes, voice strained to his own ears, feeling like he was being tipped backwards off the gates of Olympus. Like his world was crumbling in on itself. Keith moves to sit by him, not quite pitying as Lance thought he would be.  _ Poor stupid, thoughtless Lance. How could you not notice something so important?  _ “How did I not notice…?”  _ How much of an airhead could you be, to neglect such a crucial observation?  _ But Keith said neither. “I—” Lance sucks another breath, trying to fill his lungs despite feeling like there was no more air to breathe. Lance can’t tell for certain if his voice cut off because he needed to breathe, or if it was because it was such a shock for Keith to take hold of his hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing, grounding him to this moment, this place in time..

 

Lance squeezed back like it was the only thing keeping him above ground in a quicksand of remorse. 

 

One tiny little thought ran rampant in his mind following Keith’s acknowledgement that he has barely aged a few decapheobs over the past centa or so.

 

_ Hunk is dying. You’re going to watch him die just like the others. Sad, alone, and in pain.  _

 

_ You’re going to watch your best friend die and there’s nothing you can do about it.  _

 

_ Face it.  _

 

Lance’s breath hitched with the finality of the situation. He felt as though he were crushing Keith’s hand with how hard he held it. The second hitch was louder, breaking through the silence like a boom of a thunder clap along the sky, rocking his essence. Lance’s head fell on Keith’s shoulder, sinking further and turning to hide his face in Keith’s shoulder, his long hair providing not nearly sufficient enough coverage than Lance thought it would, thick and long as it was. He still felt overly exposed, raw to the core, too tender to be embraced but not strong enough to withstand this on his own.

 

Keith lets go of his hand to hug him and Lance falls into the embrace, his voice barely stifled with Keith’s shoulders. Not that Hunk would even hear them sobbing away downstairs, having started to be hard-of-hearing as of late even with hearing aids. But he crushed Keith to him all the same, much like Keith did to him when Shiro had been taken from them. It was stupid to have thought Keith would tease him about bawling, seeing as how amicable they have become throughout the passing years. 

 

It was in that moment, he thinks, that despite all the love he had held for Allura and still holds… He  _ hated _ her in that moment.

 

More questions swirl around in his mind; bitterness started to build in his veins. 

 

Did Allura do this on purpose? Did she decide she didn’t like him after all and this was just one last fuck you to him and the universe despite her saying she loved him? Did she know what her “gift” would do to him? Make him go through?  _ Why in the world would she do this to him? _

 

It didn’t make sense to think any of that, in retrospect, but Lance couldn’t help but think it as he lets his eyes run dry. 

 

They went unanswered, of course, because he couldn't possibly voice them. Didn’t know how to voice them and didn’t want to leave them hanging in the air unanswered. He doubted Keith would be able to answer them anyway. Keith understood and knew he had a very high chance of outliving his friends. Maybe he was even prepared for it. Or maybe he forced himself to stop thinking about it because it would tear apart his heart like a black hole rips apart particles.

 

Lance wonders idley, as his crying ceases, lulled into a gentle calmness by Keith petting his head, gently scratching at his scalp in a way that Lance just loved, that made him calmed down to his core, if Keith would think it was better or worse to know from the beginning.

 

At Hunk’s last moments, they stood side-by-side, Lance’s arm around his shoulder while Keith had one around his waist. Lance was grateful, oddly enough, for the fact that Hunk could live a full life. That he wasn’t stripped short of life like Pidge or Shiro or Allura. He lived the fullest life, doing what he loved, bringing people together with his food, traveling and fooling around with engineering. 

 

Lance blinks away the moisture in his eyes, letting them fall and leaning his head on Keith’s, watching as Hunk closed his eyes for the last time. Keith takes in a shaky breath and Lance presses him a little closer. He feels Keith respond in kind. 

 

_ I know,  _ he wants to say.  _ I’m grateful his was peaceful, too. _

 

And then it was down to two. 

 

Keith quit the Blade of Marmora, passing off leadership to Axca, who visits every once in a while. Lance keeps him close at the house, puts him to manual work in tending to the fields or handling the animals. Keith doesn’t seem to mind, especially since Lance cooks most of their meals. 

 

With the last of the Paladins to die, Coran passed not long after. It seemed as if he was just staying alive long enough to make sure Lance and Keith would be okay after their friends had gone. Idley he wonders that if Lance were human, if Coran would have lived longer to make sure Keith survived by himself. Not that Lance thought Keith didn’t have any other friends or family, but he didn’t seem as close to others as he was to the paladins. 

 

It was a decapheob later that Lance found himself sleepless and sitting on the couch in the living room yet again, haven grabbed the vanity mirror along to stare into its reflection. Introspecting was one of Lance’s many flaws. Not that it was bad to do it, but he tended to over think a lot of things. But he wondered why he sat in the livingroom to begin with, and if he intended to have Keith come across him? It wasn’t like Keith was gonna peek into his room to find him brooding and spatially lost. And maybe it was just perfect timing that Lance chose that night over others, feeling the worry eat away just under his skin, because Keith  _ did _ happen across him on his way to get water, no doubt. 

 

“... I’m not aging.” He says, feeling oddly calmer than the first time. The reality has long since sunk in. His best friend is dead, his girlfriend is dead, nearly his whole  _ team _ is dead. It’s scary, what humans can normalize and get used to. He learned so much about it in class. How sociopaths would hold someone hostage and sometimes, the victim would get so used to it that in the end, they  _ wanted _ to be kept by them. It’s not nearly the same thing, but still. How would one get used to the idea of having to outlive all your friends, your relatives, and your great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand nieces and nephews? With time, obviously. 

 

“Yeah..” Keith parrots again, a whisper of the past. This time when he takes his seat beside Lance he doesn’t hesitate so much; he wasn’t walking on eggshells, wondering if accepting it would break Lance into pieces. Keith sits close, thigh-to-thigh, his reflection coming right next to Lance’s, eyes roaming over the barely aged face. Lance keeps his gaze on the marks under his eyes, somehow mocking him. 

 

Keith extracts the mirror from his grip with gentle and nimble fingers, relaxing Lance’s grip before taking it and setting it face-down on the coffee table with such gentleness it barely made any noise. And then those nimble fingers threaded through his own, oddly warm juxtaposed to the chill of his own hand. Heaving a breath, Lance falls back to rest against the couch he sat on, feeling the warmth of Keith’s presence literally seep into him, warming the chill that set over his soul. Like Keith was the sun and his presence was the light; the warmth that spreads across the galaxies. 

 

Lance squeezes his hand back, leans his head on Keith’s and sinks into the moment, into Keith. 

 

If Lance had been human, if he had a long life like Hunk, would he have died before or after him? Would it have been peaceful, like Hunks? Or would he have been stripped of life like Pidge and Shiro? And who would be here, helping Keith through the greatest loss any of them have ever faced?

 

After coming to terms, he wonders if Allura knew everything that would happen. If she knew her gift would let him live for so long he would see generations of his family grow old and die. If she knew she gave the gift to him in the first place. And if she gave the gift with the thought of Keith in mind. If she knew, on a subconscious or even conscious level that Keith would outlive all of them, and that he may need someone with him after the damage is done. 

 

Lastly, he wonders if with Keith in mind, she gave Lance the gift that caused him great misery in order to help a friend who would need comfort in the end? For them to comfort each other?

 

Lance could accept that. At least in this moment. Allura and Keith weren’t as close as that, though. At least he didn’t think so. But maybe he had been wrong. Or maybe Allura instinctively knew and could understand outliving everyone you loved, and how having to do it alone would be near impossible if you had to live for another thousand or so years. Maybe she had thought, well, without Coran, she would not have been able to live through it, and after taking one look at Keith in her final moments, noticing the lines of worry at his eyes and decided no one should have to go through that alone. 

 

They stayed on the couch in silence, and eventually Lance could feel Keith’s body sink a little heavier into his side and he guessed he had fallen asleep. Keith might’ve liked to play the strong, tough guy, but Lance could see past the façade and walls he’s erected throughout the years. No one is strong enough to go through this kind of thing alone. Even Keith has weaknesses. 

 

Lance knows that if he falls asleep here, too, they’d both wake up with the worst kinks in their necks. So with Herculean effort he decided to move despite how comfy he was in the moment. He was careful to maneuver them around, though he doubts Keith would wake up with how deeply he was sleeping. Lance lay on his back, Keith’s body draping over him like a blanket. He kicked his feet over the edge of the couch, running and idly playing with Keith’s hair as the darkness creeps closer with the encroaching dawn. 

 

As Lance falls asleep, he can’t help but notice the faint smell of juniberries around them and he wonders if this was a trick of his sleeplessness. His eyes felt heavy and they closed on their own, his hand stilled in Keith’s hair, and he drifted off. 

 

* * *

 

Now that it was just them, Lance notices a lot of things. Like, he notices how Keith loves physical touch. And not like, raunchy or inappropriate touch. It was tiny, innocuous little touches that seem to mean the most to him. A touch on the back of his neck, leaning into him when they’re chilling under a tree. The way he all but melts when Lance “forces” him to sit so Lance could braid his long hair, interspersed with juniberries that make him look so fae-like Lance had to remember that Keith was indeed  _ not _ some mythical creature they still have yet to prove exists and he is, in fact, an alien-human race hybrid. 

 

The flowers made him look younger, it smoothed out the sharp edges of his cheek and jaw. He could say that Keith also looked younger because, as they say, time heals all wounds. It had been a decapheob since Hunk’s death, and thirty decapheobs since Shiro’s death. And Lance guesses this quiet, serene life would more than likely siphon out anxious feelings over an extended period of time. Keith’s lived here for twenty-seven decapheobs, afterall. 

 

How Keith would rather sit on the couch watching something nonsensical, like the Voltron show they made of the team, while they ate dinner together rather than sitting across from each other at their small dining room table. How, now that Lance notices, Keith is actually very open with his own touch. Lance had always been a touchy-feely person, so he had never really paid attention if someone was that way to  _ him. _ He had always been one to instigate such affection, and when he wasn’t, he didn’t think twice because he usually always responded in kind. 

 

Now that he doesn’t have any kind of distraction, he’s taken to studying Keith. The way he moves, the way he talks, the way he responds to Lance and his (attempts at) humor. It was actually kind of refreshing, having this easy camaraderie with just the two of them following all of life’s turmoil. They reminisce together, they go have a picnic once a pheob at Altea to commemorate their fallen comrades. 

 

Lance could admit, now, a hundred-and-so decapheobs later, that he had always had a great admiration for Keith, even from before Voltron. Sure, that admiration might have been buried deep behind his unadulterated jealousy of Keith’s supposed innate talent and easy-going success. He was what was referred to as  _ a natural. _ Not that Keith didn’t focus and try hard in everything that he did, but people would rather romanticize natural talent than hard work. And Lance wonders if that admiration would have blossomed into something more if Lance’s opposing emotions didn’t get in the way. 

 

Afterall, years into the human’s history has let them see an easy accaptance of sexulity and gender identity. Humans may have their differences now and then, but nothing like what they had experienced in the new millenia centuries ago. Sex, gender, sexuality, ethnicity, human rights; all those things barely hold a handle to the problems they faced. It has grown to be so inconsequential that  _ coming out, _ as they used to call it, is nearly no longer a thing unless someone comes to an epiphany about it and decides to share. 

 

So yeah, Lance wonders if it wasn’t for his own brain, if he would have accepted what Keith had either intentionally or unintentionally tried to give. Lance wasn’t stupid, but he was a bit air-headed. He vaguely remembers the first week abroad the castle-ship, after he woke up from the fight with Sendak, and how Keith had seemed devastated about his denial of the bonding moment that had happened. Or how every time he’d say something against Keith, he’d get as prickly as a hedgehog. But he had noticed, over the years, especially when the team was still together and fighting to save the universe from imminent destruction, that whenever he’d give a compliment, an affirmation, Keith would actually light up a little. His eyes would narrow, but soften. His lips would quirk into a small smile— not quite a smirk. How he would turn to him nearly completely, like he was giving Lance his attention— or anyone, really, whoever was talking to him. 

 

Then he wonders if those feelings ever left. The deep-rooted admiration, the love for a team member that might’ve been something just a little bit more but he’d never given a thought to it because he was so focused on Allura. And he wonders if she knew— about him and these feelings that were buried too deep for him to think about until that was all he could do with his time. 

 

Lance takes it upon himself to gift more of his attention to Keith. Maybe this was a bit of an experiment on his end, wondering if he truly did have romantic feelings for Keith, or was getting them, or if they were resurfacing, but it wasn’t like Keith was screaming at him for personal space. Lance placed a lot of emphasis on implicit touches and words of affirmation, and in kind Keith typically responded with his own implicit touches and gave Lance his full attention. Which, of course, Lance loved. He loved being the center of attention, really, so having Keith give him his undivided attention and even humor him in spending time with him listening to Lance go on about new products he was creating and even trying them, it filled a hole in his heart he didn’t know had been leaking. 

 

Hunk was typically the person who would humor him and listen to his rambling, and do things with him. It wasn’t even the thing they were doing that was the most important; to Lance, it was that they were doing it together. Lance could have hated what they were doing but still loved it because they were spending time together. 

 

They didn’t really talk about it, either, if they ever felt a strange tug to be together. He means, if one spends most of your time with one person, feelings are bound to happen whether one wants them to or not. Keith doesn’t seem to be fighting against it; doesn’t pull away from Lance’s touch. Lance wonders if Keith even understands what could be possibly happening. He’s never even seen Keith show romantic interest in another human being, what made him think he was so special Keith could be developing feelings for him? He’s never seen Keith have a girlfriend— let alone a boyfriend. Maybe he was just projecting his own feelings onto Keith and seeing what he wants to see.

 

However, when he started to just inch away, trying to be smooth, Keith just looked so  _ distraught _ that Lance immediately abandoned putting up some boundaries in regards to the new relationship they have. 

 

It was only the night that Lance had pulled out the newly fermented juniberry nectar that Lance thought it just… felt right. 

 

It could be the alcohol talking, but he doubts that was the biggest reason. It’s not nearly enough to make you so drunk that you’ll end up making decisions you’d regret for the rest of your life. It just loosened your bones, your words, and your actions. But only, like, by a bit. 

 

Back on the couch after they’ve had their desserts, courtesy of Sal (yes, that Sal), their wine glasses empty on the coffee table and them two cuddled close, watching one of the oldest classics in the universe (Across the Universe, obviously. He was amazed that Keith even  _ agreed _ to watch it. Keith was more inclined to watch the old kung fu movies) when Lance told himself  _ fuck it _ and just kissed the top of Keith’s head. It was a rather inoffensive action, seeing as how Keith laid his head on Lance’s shoulder, that he wonders why he had never done it before. Of course, when he wasn’t drinking the little voice in his head would tell him how much of a bad idea it was, whispering noxious little phrases to him. 

 

Keith doesn’t react in such an obvious way. 

 

He didn’t gasp and move away like he’d been burned. Or look disgusted. He did seemed surprised, if only a little. Like he didn’t know what Lance had done, or if he had done it to get Keith’s attention. Keith lifts his head to turn it just so, a light flush across his cheeks; a slight Asian flush. His eyes are glossy. He didn’t drink much, but Keith had always seemed to be weak to alcohol. And Lance wasn’t  _ that _ weak to alcohol, but the juniberres didn’t seem to care about his self-supposed tolerance to it. 

 

So when Lance leaned his head forward, bumping his nose against Keith’s in pseudo-eskimo kiss affection and Keith didn’t respond badly besides a small indiscernible laugh (a giggle, really. He can’t call it anything but that) he couldn’t think of a reason why he  _ ever _ thought it would be a bad idea. 

 

The first time their lips met, it was very simple.

 

Lance didn’t feel overwhelmed, or nervous, well… Maybe a little. He didn’t feel fireworks blowing up in his head or anything that he’s ever read in a romance novel in the history of ever. What it did feel like, though, was like he was coming home. Which was completely absurd. He was already home, and even when they got back to earth and he was able to actually go  _ home, _ it felt.. just slightly different than now. Like all his fears had been assuaged with the promise of someone to keep him afloat. Someone to be with other than just to fill a void, and he certainly hoped past the haze of alcohol, that Keith felt that way too. 

 

Keith seemed to blink into slight awareness before even deciding to kiss back. A gentler pressure on Lance’s lips. They pull apart for only a moment, foreheads resting together, peeking at each other and Lance  _ swears _ he saw Keith smile from the corner of his eye but he wasn’t about to go and pull back to fully look. Instead he leans forward again and quickly covered the few short inches between their lips to kiss him again. 

 

Not with any more intensity, really. Just the same simple, sweet brush of lips that caused his mind to sing and his soul to still. 

 

The Buddhists of old said if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, you knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you meet your soulmate, you’ll feel calm. No anxiety, no agitation. They’ve also said that when you do meet your soulmate, to remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making, and to always appreciate and be kind to each other. 

 

Lance wasn’t really a Buddhist or followed many of the teachings of Buddhism, but that always stuck with him when he learned it in history class. He doesn’t remember the first time he met Keith, though. Not personally. And he wonders if perhaps the gap between who Lance thought he was and who he was, was so wide that he never got the chance to feel the calmness he feels now the first time around. Who knows? Maybe he had even met Keith as a child and had completely forgotten about it. How could he have missed, with all the years he’d been alive, this feeling of serenity and calmness? Sure, they might’ve been stuck in a war, and then other things have stolen their attention. 

 

It stayed simple and sweet, a brush of lips, some gentle pressure; twice, thrice more before they pulled apart just enough. The light flickering in Keith’s eye from the show in the background was mesmerizing. 

 

* * *

 

 

When Lance woke up, he had a faceful of dark, sweet smelling tresses. The only downside was that his left arm was as numb as  _ hell. _ But, he thought quietly to himself, it was worth it. Keith was actually a great space heater in the winter. Lance carefully extracts his arm from under Keith’s neck where he had been spooned up against him and slips out of bed with a shiver as the winter air permeates his pajamas. He pulls on a robe, stretching out his limbs and hearing a satisfying  _ pop _ of bones. Glancing back at Keith, he sees him reclaim territory that Lance had left empty. 

 

It was a really funny observation, actually. That Keith would hog everything only when Lance wasn’t literally keeping him boxed in a cuddle. Left alone in a giant bed, Keith would kick and twist in the blankets. But given a smaller space or needing to share, his sleeping pattern changes. Lucky for Lance, though, right? At least he hasn’t been kicked in the groin by a sleeping Keith, or punched by him.

 

Yet.

 

Knock on wood.

 

Lance makes his way downstairs, starting a pot of fresh coffee for Keith and himself and gazes out the giant windows in the living room. 

 

Snow was starting to litter the ground, effectively blanketing the juniberry fields and crops. It might be weird, seeing snow on Cuban ground. He has heard in the past history books it was very rare for Cuba to get cold, let alone get this much snow. But with climate change and tectonic movement, it had conveniently moved the island more north. It was a good thing he and Keith built their own greenhouse. It had been a pain in the ass, with more than a few hiccups and broken glass, but they finally managed to create one after a few pheobs. Sure, it could have been a lot easier to just have one of the AIs build it, but they just wanted it to be personal. 

 

It was there, in the corner of the scenery, just a skip and a hop away. Inside, it was mostly juniberries. Interspersed with them was a few vegetables, some other flowers, and a lychee tree. Of course, it didn’t have  _ only _ things to eat. It had a small pond filled with koi (for Keith, obviously). And Keith doesn’t know this, but Lance is just waiting on a shipment of butterfly eggs that he’ll hide among the flora and when they hatch… well, he’ll blindfold Keith and bring him into the greenhouse and take it off for him to see their little corner of paradise. 

 

Lance smiles to himself, tearing his eyes away to pour himself a cup of coffee. Perfected with only one spoon of sugar and  _ just a splash _ of creamer. As he taps the teaspoon on the top he feels arms hug around his middle and he chuckles as Keith basically plasters himself against his back, face buried between his shoulder blades.

 

“Morning sleepy head. Want some coffee?” 

 

Keith mumbled something unintelligible into his shirt and Lance grabs a cup from the cupboard. He feels nostalgic, seeing the cup he grabbed as one of the ones Pidge had given them. It was black with white speckles— stars. Lance pours the coffee into the cup, watching as the constellations show up with the changing temperature. This specific cup she had given to Keith. Lance himself had gotten one, but it had his face on a flag. The first time he used it, he nearly dropped it in surprise. He gets the condensed milk from the fridge, trying not to dislodge Keith from his hold as he puts in two spoonfuls. 

 

“Keith, babe.” Lance taps the arms around him and Keith mumbles into his back again, making him chuckle. “Coffee’s ready. Just how you like it.” It was only a few moments later of staying still that Keith finally extracted himself from Lance to grab his fresh cup of coffee and pulled back enough to lean against the counter. Keith holds his cup with both hands, fingers spread out and warming his hands as he takes a sip gratefully. 

 

It was kinda funny, actually, seeing Keith this sleepy. It seems like with the dawning of a new colder season he’s started to become more lethargic. Like the lack of natural warmth and extra sun has made him go into a kind of hibernation mode.

 

Like a cat.

 

Lance grins to himself, hiding it by taking a sip of his own coffee, turning around to lean back against the counter like Keith was. He wonders if it had something to do with him being Galra. Daibazaal did orbit three suns, after all.  With more sips, Keith starts to awaken more. Lance could see it in the corner of his eye, the way Keith stands up a little straighter. He always seemed to have perfect posture. Unless sleepy, of course. The way his eyes open just a bit more than being half-closed. The way he seems to see everything a little bit sharper than before. 

 

“It’s really coming down, huh?” Keith asks, eyes to the scenery through the large windows. Lance hums and nods. 

 

“It does seem to be snowing a lot more this year.” Lance agrees, happily letting the coffee warm him. Keith leans into him imperceptibly. Had Lance not been used to Keith seeking gentle contact, he would have looked in surprise to see what it was. Lance leans into his side, just to let him know he’s there. 

 

It had been nearly a pheob since the night they’ve kissed and it hadn’t progressed to anything more that night. Except, maybe, that now they’ve taken to sleeping in the same bed. And that they’re more liberal with their touches and shows of affection. Whenever the moment strikes, or more like presents itself, they’ll give each other little pecks on the cheek or lips and neither shies away from it. It just didn’t feel right to rush into things. They do have all the time in the world.

 

Literally. 

 

Well, relatively all the time in the world. They’re barely 200 years old and if the life expectancies of Alteans and Galra are anything to go by, they’re barely at mid-life. 

 

“At least there  _ is _ something good to come out of something this cold..” Lance replies, glancing at Keith to the corner of his eye and grinning. Keith raises a brow and turns his head.

 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” 

 

“Sweater weather.” Lance says with a grin. Keith rolls his eyes but chuckles anyway. “Not to mention it’s prime cuddle-weather, and fireplace time, and of course, the long standing tradition of everything-must-be-pumpkin-spice-flavored.” Keith laughs again, drinking the rest of his cup now that he’s been sufficiently awoken. 

 

“I think you’re forgetting that you can also build snowmen.” 

 

“Ooo, that too.” Lance finishes off his cup, letting Keith take it to rinse it off and set it on the drying rack. 

 

It was kinda funny, how he can feel so much love for him, watching him doing something so  _ simple _ like washing their cups. Something so domestic and simple, mundane. But he feels grateful all the same, ‘cause he could have just as easily  _ not _ have had this. And it could have just been Keith, alone in this house or on the Blade’s ship, cooped up in his room and coming out only when he feels so hungry he couldn’t even sleep. And even Axca and the other generals wouldn’t be able to coax him to eat. Food does taste better when shared with someone, after all. That was Hunk’s biggest thing, sharing and cooking food for people to bring them together.

 

Lance finally understands, kind of. At least it’s further sinking in. 

 

Lance watches him, a silly little smile on his face, he’s sure. Keith is wearing some loose sweats that have a white stripe down the sides and one of Lance’s thin sweatshirts. Which, by the way, what even is the point of those things? Fashion?? Whatever. His hair is a mess and Lance itches to comb it out with his nails. So he does. Keith only glances to him curiously before letting him do as he wishes. 

 

“Do you  _ ever _ comb your hair?” He teases and Keith huffs like he’s offended.

 

“Why would I need to when you’re always doing it for me?” He snarks playfully and Lance just barely tugs on his hair in retaliation, causing Keith to snicker. 

 

“Hush, you.” Lance says with a fake pout and easily works out all of the knots in his hair. It would be a lot easier if he had Keith’s nails; long and sharp. He wonders how Keith even manages to keep them like that without breaking when all he does is manual labor and working out. Not that they were ridiculously long, but just enough to scratch an itch to full satisfaction. Satisfied enough with Keith’s hair, he quickly braided it and slapped on a hair tie to keep it in place.  _ “Boom.” _

 

Keith looks at the braid that had been thrown over his shoulder and turns around to face Lance, arms looping around his neck. 

 

“Thank you.” He says, a small smile on his lips and he leans up just slightly for a kiss that Lance lovingly greets. Lance had lorded over his three-inch taller height advantage since forever. It makes him ridiculously happy that he was at least taller than Keith. He might not have been stronger (at least not prior to getting the Altean marks), but at least he beat Keith at  _ something. _ Even if it was something as inconsequential as height. 

 

They stay like that for a moment, foreheads pressed together, basking in the moment. They seem to do that a lot, not that Lance minds. It was nice, to take a moment to breathe, just  _ be. _ In the moment, together, counting their blessings. He’s never been able to do that with Allura, their romance stilted and fitted into pockets between fights and recuperation. It has been a while since Lance accepted the gift Allura left as a good thing. It took a few moments, especially after Hunk’s death, but he did. Even if she gave the gift without meaning to, he counts it as a blessing now. 

 

He loved Allura, he did. His feelings are always true in that respect. But just because he holds love for Allura does not mean he gives less love to Keith. You  _ can _ love more than one person without it taking away from their memory. He might’ve looked at it differently if Keith might’ve been demanding of his affection, or if Keith stopped him from trying to pay tribute to her. But he doesn’t. Keith keeps track of the days they travel to Altea, he picks the juniberries for the bouquet to place on Allura’s statue, he says kind words and spreads her message as well. 

 

Yeah, Lance misses her. A part of him always will. But he can’t continue living in the past, especially with how long a future he now possesses. Living in the past was one thing, living in the past with an Altean life span was another. He can’t waste the time that he’s been blessed with. 

 

Lance gives another peck to his lips before pulling back. “Now, what should we do today?”

 

The greatest thing about being legendary heroes, Lance thinks, are the perks. Sure, they do have to pay for things they buy, but the majority of the universe is grateful enough for them that they provide everything they need and ask for (within reason, of course). Food, a few clothes now and then, seeds, etcetera. But even without that, Lance’s line of juniberry products are pretty popular. He might not have mass-produced it, but those who want the products pay a fair price for it and he works on it himself, with Keith’s help. But even then it takes up little time. 

 

The universe is their oyster and they could do whatever they wished. 

 

Climb Mount Kilimanjaro, go be guest speakers at a children’s class. He always gets asked, though, if he misses Allura, even though Keith was there. And of course, he can’t lie so he says yes. And children aren’t stupid, they see how he and Keith talk to each other, how they interact, and Lance had long since stopped feeling bashful about it, or feeling like he’s backstabbing Allura, and they ask Keith is he feels the same. 

 

“I do.” He says, a small smile on his face. “Allura was an amazing woman that did amazing things. She gave her life so that we all may live. Her sacrifice was great, but not in vain.” 

 

“Are you two together-together?” Asks a child and Lance is nearly floored by their straight-forwardness. Keith looks from their linked hands, not quite obvious if you’re not looking, and then glances to Lance and smiles before turning back to the child. 

 

“Yeah, we are.” 

 

“Don’t you feel jealous of Allura?” Another asks and Lance has to wonder if Keith feels that way too. Keith chuckles and shakes his head. 

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“Why not?” Damn, those kids really didn’t wanna accept it, huh? Keith chuckles again, ever patient now that he’s older.

 

“Well, because him having loved her doesn’t take away from the present.” He says so simply. “I loved Allura too, she was family. Just like I loved Hunk, and Pidge, and Shiro, and Coran. We were family. We made a great team.” 

 

The kids seem to be trying to think hard, not understanding the maturity with how Keith looks at the situation and Lance’s heart soars. Just  _ wow, _ how did he manage to get so blessed with someone who understands his struggle? 

 

“If Allura was alive, would you still be together?” One kid asks, even as the teacher had repeatedly asked them to stop asking such personal questions. Keith just shrugs, glancing to Lance and giving an easy-going smile.

 

“I don’t know. I can’t speculate and guess about what could happen when I have the future to think about. But even if she did live, that would be great, wouldn’t it? Even if it meant we didn’t get together.” Keith shrugs a bit. “All that matters is that we have people we love in our life. I would have still loved Allura and Lance if Allura lived. It might have been a different type of love, but I would still love them.” 

 

And  _ wow, _ if Keith hadn’t had his heart before, he certainly has it now.

 

With a smile Lance pulls him closer, making sure Keith gave his attention before giving him a kiss and hearing all the kids squeal; some in disgust at PDA and some in excitement. They laugh as they pull apart, just barely. 

 

“Okay, kids,” the teacher calls their attention. “It’s time to go back to class. I think we’ve spent enough time badgering our heroes about personal things.” She says, giving an apologetic glance to them about the interrogation. Lance gives her a helpless smile, unhooking his hand from Keith’s to lay it across his shoulders instead, waving the kids off with his free hand. 

 

Keith watches them trudge off, chuckling a bit. 

 

“Have you ever given a thought to kids?” He asks and it catches Lance off guard.

 

“Uh, well. Kinda, but not really?” Lance asks, giving a little shrug. “I mean, yes and no. I grew up with a lot of siblings so having a big family was always a given… But with how things ended, it didn’t really cross my mind.” He glances at Keith, curious. “Why? Did you want kids?” Keith snorts, shaking his head. 

 

“I never thought about it either.” He shrugs. “Never really had the urge, either… I thought about adopting, maybe. But I’ve heard that it’s the worst feeling in the universe to outlive a child so…” Keith shrugs again, toeing a pebble by his feet. “With Galra’s obnoxiously long lifespan, it would be hard to adopt a child that lives longer than us.” 

 

He said  _ us _ like it was a given and Lance melts all over again, though he does see where Keith was coming from. He guesses they  _ could _ potentially adopt a Galran or Altean child, but he wonders how easy that would be. Adoption itself is not that easy a task, even in human society. 

 

Lance hugs him closer and kisses his head. “Yeah, I get it.” A beat of silence, and then, “You know. I still don’t understand how Altea stays warm  _ all year around. _ Is it sorcery?” Keith blinks at him before bursting into giggles, shaking his head. 

 

“Wow, just wow, Lance.” Keith pauses. “Although.. You’re right. Isn’t their rain, like… boiling rocks, though? I would hate to see what their snow is like.” Lance pins him with a  _ look. _ Like, really? He just  _ had _ to steal his thunder, huh? 

 

Keith blinks cutely, tilting his head at the reaction. “What?” Lance sighs heavily, kissing his head again. 

 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” He says by means of explanation, which only seemed to confuse Keith  _ more.  _ But that was okay. 

 

“I— Okay…?” He asks unsurely. Lance chuckles and kisses him on the lips again, effectively distracting him.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t understand  _ why _ I have to wear this. I feel ridiculous.” Keith states, looking down at the ensemble Lance had made him wear. High-waisted shorts, mostly covered by the red oversized sweater. His hair was let down, spilling in rivulets down his back and over his shoulders. 

 

_ “Because.”  _  Lance stresses, wearing his own oversized sweater but having sweatpants. Keith may be able to stand the slight chill inside the house, but Lance, it seems, could not. Although that was more or less an excuse for Keith to show some leg. “We can do this~” he says, pressing play on the remote and the beat starts playing. 

 

_ “And all I am, is a man. I want the world, in my hands~”  _ Lance starts to sing along, haven found the  _ perfect _ song.  _ “I hate the beach, but I stand, in California with my toes in the sand.” _ Keith snorts and rolls his eyes as Lance twirls his way over.  _ “Use the sleeves of my sweater, let’s have an adventure.” _ Lance tugs Keith closer by his sleeves.  _ “Head in the clouds, but my gravity’s centered. Touch my neck,”  _ Lance puts Keith’s hand on his neck.  _ “And I’ll touch yours,”  _ Lance copies the action, cupping the back of Keith’s neck, thumb on his pulse point.  _ “You in those little high-waisted shorts, ohh~”  _

 

Keith burst into giggles as Lance started to dance them around, able to keep them up even with Keith’s two left feet. 

 

_ “And if I may just take your breath away, I don't mind if there's not much to say. Sometimes the silence guides our minds to, so move to a place so far away, yeah.”  _ Lance twirls him, hearing Keith laugh at the absurdity of it.  _ “The goosebumps start to raise the minute that my left hand meets your waist.”  _ He pulls Keith back in, hand on his waist in perfect synchronization of the lyrics.  _ “These hearts adore, every other beat the other one beats for~ Inside this place is warm; outside it starts to pour~ _

_   
_ _ “'Cause it's too cold whoa, for you here. And now, so let me hold whoa, both your hands in the holes of my sweater.” _

 

* * *

 

“Lance, where  _ are  _ you taking me?” Keith asks for the upmteenth time despite them barely being out of the house. Lance had blindfolded him and spun him around several times to confuse him. 

 

“Hush.” He says instead, leading Keith by the hand to the greenhouse garden, happy the snow wasn’t too high for them to walk through. “It’s a surprise.” Keith snorts.

 

“Yeah. I get that, the blindfold kind of gives it away.” He teases, no doubt rolling his eyes behind said blindfold. Lance tugs him just a bit harder than he does normally and it cause Keith to stumble into his back with an  _ oof! _ and a pout. Lance chuckles and opens the door to the greenhouse as quietly as possible. He ushers Keith in and closes the door and he could  _ hear _ the odd lilt in his voice when he notices how warm it was inside. “... The greenhouse?”

 

Lance grins, moving him a bit further in. He’s glad Keith played along and didn’t take off the blindfold. 

 

“Yup! And now…” Lance grins, carefully untying the blindfold and taking it off. He steps to the side, watching Keith’s face as he opens his eyes. His lashes flutter open and his eyes widen as a barrage of butterflies fly across his vision. 

 

“Whoa…” He whispers in wonder, eyes following a giant butterfly across the greenhouse. He raises his hand, curious, and one comes to land on his finger and he sucks in a surprised gasp. “Did you do this?” He asks, turning his head, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. Obviously, who else would it be? Lance smiles proudly and nods. “Lance,” he breathes, eyes going back to the butterfly as it took off again. “It’s beautiful.” 

 

_ You’re beautiful,  _ he wants to say but finds the words stuck in his throat. Some butterflies deeming to perch on Keith’s wild hair and he looked drop-dead gorgeous. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a younger Pidge pipes up,  _ what vintage-loving gal wouldn’t give to be Keith right now.  _

 

Keith moves in deeper, grinning at the multitude of butterflies, many different ones. He looked so at ease here. In the greenery of their garden and the magenta of the juniberries, in the pseudo-spring and summer time, Keith belonged there. Despite being born a fall child, the cusp of spring and summer time, that was where Keith belonged.

 

Lance smiles, coming to slide his arms around Keith’s waist, scattering the butterflies on Keith’s hair. Keith laughs and places his hands over Lance’s. 

 

“I love it.” Keith had a butterfly perched on his outstretched hand. He turns his head just slightly, Lance peeking over his shoulder. “I love you, Lance.”

 

* * *

 

Lance pats down his face with the moisturizer, looking this way and that in the mirror. Satisfied, he dries his hair and puts on some fresh clothes. He skips down the stairs, ready to have their movie night complete with hot chocolate and popcorn and old cheesy movies that weren’t lost in the great war. 

 

When he got downstairs, however, he didn’t see Keith curled up in his spot of the couch with the thick blanket like he usually does. Lance had been in the shower for a while, since Keith took one earlier. Keith was, instead, sitting in the middle of the living room floor surrounded by photo albums and pictures, wearing something so ridiculously bright yellow and oversized that Lance’s brain stalled for the wrong reasons the first second. 

 

It was Hunk’s sweater. 

 

“Keith?”

 

Keith sniffles and wipes at his eyes, looking up. 

 

“I found these..” He says, taking a shaky breath. Lance comes over, sitting down next to him to pick up a photo from the pile Keith was looking at. 

 

It was the team. Right by Allura’s statue. It was them, and Hunk, and Pidge, and Shiro, and Coran. They looked so  _ young.  _ They  _ were _ so young. Barely in their twenties. Lance picks it up, seeing the one right under it. The one five years later. Still them, still young. They had so much potential…

 

“I kinda wish.. we took more pictures.” Keith leans into him. Lance leans into him as well, resting his head on his as he slowly flips through the pictures that weren’t put into albums. 

 

“Yeah..” Lance replies quietly. “What made you pull these out?” Keith shrugs a bit.

 

“I was looking through the closet. Came across these, and this.” he raises a hand to show the extra long sleeve slip down his arm. Keith slides the pictures on the floor, plucking one out of the lineup. “Remember this?” He asks, and Lance had to squint at it because— was that  _ them? _

 

“Oh, my god!” Lance burst into laughter. Keith chuckles next to him. It was them; Lance, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge, all wearing various degrees of Shiro’s old outfit, all pretending to be him. “Man, that was amazing. Shiro was so  _ confused _ when he came in.” Lance takes it from him, bringing it closer to inspect. “Wait— do we still have the pictures of when we all dressed up like Pidge?” Keith shakes his head.

 

“I tried looking for that, too. It’s not in any of these.” Keith hugs his arm, leaning on him more, laying his head on Lance’s shoulder. 

 

“Maybe on Pidge’s computer..” Lance says, nearly to himself as he flips through some more memories. Chuckling along with Keith as they reminisce. 

 

After going through another pile of photographs, Keith hugs his arm just a little tighter and Lance glances at him, seeing the forlorn look on his face.

 

“...I miss them.” Keith says quietly. Lance kisses his head. 

 

“I know. I miss them, too.” 

 

They stay like that for another while, looking through the albums after Lance had put a fire in the fireplace to keep them warm. It seemed like their movie night turned into a quiet night of nostalgia. Haven calmed, Keith now lay on the floor by the fire on the throw blanket with an album out, one of the last ones.

 

“Do you ever think about where they ended up?”

 

“You mean, like, after they died?” Keith nods, turning the album to show him yet another happy moment lost to time: Shiro’s wedding. 

 

“Yeah.” Lance hums in thought, smiling a bit at how happy everyone was.

 

“Well. Pidge would probably find a way to upload her being into a computer posthumously.” Keith giggles, his eyes narrowing. 

 

“She’ll find a way to haunt us, I’m sure.” 

 

“Yeah.. It was too bad we couldn’t download her intelligence like King Alfor did.” He says, a bit somber as he remembers they had  _ tried. _ But the Pidge that was an AI had the same problem: a rapidly declining thought function. 

 

“Give her another few decades, I’m sure she’ll find a way.” Keith smiles a bit, the right side of his lip curling up. Lance hums and nods.    
  


“She’ll probably do something way over the top, though. Like, have all the technology try to kill us like the castle did.” Keith burst into laughter and pulls the album back. It helped, to remember them. To talk about the future like they were there, like life after death wasn’t just an empty and desolate infinity. 

 

“What about Hunk?” 

 

Lance had to think on that. He and Hunk never really talked about the afterlife, even when he was human and even before Voltron. Why talk about the inevitable demise when you’ve got a hundred or so decapheobs ‘till death? But from what he does remember…

 

“I don’t think Hunk was very religious. But I think he believed in heaven.” 

 

“Hunk’s heaven would be an endless pantry and a refrigerator that never lets food go bad.” Keith smiles, flipping the page. “I miss his cooking. But Romelle became a pretty good second protege, didn’t she?”

 

“God, yes. Next level cooking, right there. Hunk would be proud to see where she took his empire.” Lance smiles, sighing. He waits a moment, Keith flips through another page. “What about Shiro?” Keith pauses, staring at the picture of him and Shiro he came across. One of his birthdays Shiro made Keith celebrate. 

 

“He didn’t believe in religion.. But he believed in a life afterwards.”

 

“... What do you think happened to Allura?” Lance asks, moving to lay by Keith instead of leaning back on his arms where he was sitting. “Do you think Alteans believed in heaven? Or reincarnation?” Keith takes another moment to think about this. 

 

“I think they believe in samsara. The endless cycle of life.” Keith says, carefully, like he was tasting the answer on his tongue. “Allura may be gone, but she’s a part of the universe. Apart of us.” Lance smiles, leaning to kiss him sloppily on the cheek to which Keith made a face and playfully shoved him away with a laugh. 

 

“Yeah. What about us? What do you think will happen to us once we die?” He asks, and oddly enough, he’s not feeling any trepidation or fear about the inevitable end hundreds of decapheobs from now. Yeah, he’ll die, Keith’ll die. But.. it wasn’t as scary as it once was. 

 

“I believe.. We’ll meet up with the rest. There’s a saying in Buddhism, that when you meet a true friend, you will be bound through space and time for five hundred years.” Keith smiles, glancing up from the pictures after picking up the one with all of them at Allura’s statue. “We’ll meet them again.” Lance smiles, nudging into Keith’s shoulder with his own.

 

“Yeah, we will.” 

* * *

 

 

How does Keith have such _full hair?_ _How?_ How is it long and fluffy, coarse-looking but is actually soft? Lance didn’t know and couldn’t give you an answer. Keith’s hair seemed to defy logic and Lance blames it on his Galra heritage. 

 

Keith lay on the blanket under them, his hair laying out around his head filled with flowers. It was longer now, at Lance’s behest. He almost freaked when Keith mentioned he wanted to cut it. It took so long to grow (blame the Galra genes) and Lance complained about not having his hair to play with and style and braid. Keith hums, peeking open an eye as Lance wove another stem into his hair and it stayed without much difficulty, like Keith’s hair was a wonderful substitute for soil. 

 

“Having fun?” Keith teased and Lance grins.

 

“Of course. I’ll make you into a flower child yet.” Keith chuckles and shakes his head, to which he gets a gentle whack on his shoulders for accidentally dislodging some flowers from their perfect place. 

 

It was finally spring time again, past the monsoons and closer to the tail-end of the season and Lance had been excited to have the opportunity to start having picnics. This was, of course, one of many to come. Keith’s skin was still the pale it had always been, except now that he sees the sun more often, his skin had gained a little bit of color and it made him seem more alive than before. 

 

Keith once again closes his eyes, letting Lance do as he pleases. Happily taking another junniberry from his basket of flowers, he tucks it behind Keith’s ear and then blocked Keith’s sun by leaning over him, one arm propping him up on the other side of Keith’s body. Keith opens his eye again, and then the other. 

 

“Done?”

 

“Yeah.” Lance says, admiring his latest masterpiece and about to take some pictures— if only he could stop his admiring for a second. Lance smiles, using his free hand to caress Keith’s cheek, swiping his thumb across his cheek. Keith smiles back up at him and Lance couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him.

 

“I love you, Keith.”   
  


* * *

 

 

The day they actually slept together didn’t hit him like a truck. Keith didn’t do something silly like wear lingerie or wait for him starkers on the bed or something equally silly. Lance didn’t prepare dinner and alcohol to guide their way. It slipped into the moment just so… easily. 

 

It started with a kiss.

 

As it nearly always does, Lance is sure. Right before they retired to bed, but sitting up cuddled in bed, talking about their plans for the coming week. They played with each other’s hands, tracing their fingers along each other’s hands and wrist, along the palm, the bands on their fingers barely glistening in the dark from a moonless night. Near identical, save for the cut of color embedded on the outside. The inside of the ring, a gold the color of quintessence with the inscribed date  _ August 16 ∞. _ The outside, a black titanium with a litany of red sparkles dispersed like stars in the galaxy on Keith’s hand. On Lance’s hand, near same save for the color of stars— blue. Alexandrite was embedded on the center, a gleaming red with the minimal light they had, but knowing it’ll drift into the bluegreen the moment the sun comes up. A reminder of them, their connectedness, their interdependence. 

 

It was Keith who instigated it. Their speeches slowed, plans whispered like secrets. Keith raises his head and finally leaned in for the kiss. Lance, of course, reciprocates. He didn’t expect to go further. They typically don’t. Lance knew better than to push what Keith is willing to give. Boundaries, ya know. But Keith kisses him again, decidedly swiping his tongue along Lance’s lips that it surprised him for a mere moment before Lance kisses back, letting their tongues taste the sweetness from their desserts that night. 

 

Impatience never built up in his veins, not in the last few decapheobs of this gentle near puppy-like love. And even now, at the prospect of going further, he still felt no need to rush and hurry along to the end. 

 

Lance cupped his neck, thumbing at his pulsepoint if only to hear the  _ thu-thump _ of his heart. His other hand slips into his long hair, skimming his nails across his scalp, making Keith hum in approval.

 

“Feels nice.” Keith hums as he pulls back and Lance chuckles, massaging his scalp. 

 

“Yeah? I can make you feel even better.” He says teasingly, leaning to press kisses to his neck since Keith leaned his head back into the massage. Keith burst into laughter, ticklish with the light touches. Lance takes this chance to move his hands to Keith’s hip, fingers dancing on the fringe of his shirt as Keith wraps his arms around his neck. Squirming in his grasp but not at all telling him to stop. 

 

Lance’s fingers dip just under Keith’s shirt, skimming against the waistband of his shorts. The moment Lance’s hands met skin Keith shivered. Even in the tail-end of the summer, Lance’s body ran cool. Keith doesn’t complain though, sucking in a surprised breath that Lance ate up with another kiss. 

 

_ “Jeez, _ your hands are  _ freezing.” _ Keith says once the kiss breaks. He was exaggerating, Lance was sure, based on the teasing grin on his lips which Lance kissed again just because he could. 

 

“Good thing I have you to keep me warm, huh?” Lance grins, nuzzling their noses together. Keith chuckles, mimicking the movement before hugging him closer, lips grazing his own. 

 

“Yeah, good thing.” He whispers against Lance’s lips and kisses him again, languid and unhurried, letting their tongues map out each other’s mouths. Lance takes this time to slide his hands up further, Keith’s heat sinking into his hands, warming them. He could feel the gooseflesh under his fingers and he chuckles a bit into the kiss. 

 

Lance had been leaning further into him and they break their kiss as they fall, Keith starting to laugh as he falls onto his back. Lance makes good with the shirt, shucking it up to feel more skin on his chest before pulling it off. Keith huffs as he gets pulled off, flopping back onto the bed. His hair spread out under him, inky black like the night sky. Lance would be lying if he said he didn’t ask Keith to keep it that long. It may make him look just slightly effeminate, but it’s not like he looks like a girl. Keith just seemed to inherit his mother’s genes and Lance has to wonder why Keith wasn’t taller. Not that he’s complaining. But it just seemed like Keith would grow taller. Krolia was pretty tall, afterall. And from what he knows of Keith’s dad, he was more Shiro’s height. Which means Keith  _ should _ have been taller and he’ll blame it on half-breed genes. 

 

It never ceases to amaze Lance that Keith was rather small. Sure, he was ridiculously strong, but for being that strong he has a tiny waist. Even as he grew up and matured, some of his baby fat gone, even with Keith training and in manual labor, his muscles didn’t get overly big. His arms and legs became a bit more defined, though now he had softened with a far more leisurely life. 

 

Anyway, Lance digresses. 

 

Lance slides his hands up Keith’s chest, just soaking in his heat and presence before he felt Keith grab and tug on his shirt, trying to tug it off. Lance acquises for just a moment, letting his hands fall off Keith’s skin so that Keith can pull off his shirt. Lance groans as he gets stuck. His long limbs typically lead to this and he wishes he had the foresight to have seen this coming. This was not sexy. 

 

“Just— wait a tick.” Lance huffs, sitting up just enough to try and extract himself from the trap that is his shirt. Keith snickering in amusement as Lance finally is able to pop his head from the collar of the shirt, cheeks flushing lightly. “Shush, you.” Lance says but grins anyway as he throws his shirt off the bed, uncaring where it landed. He lay his body on top of Keith’s, humming with the heat that flooded him and he idly feels they were so complimentary— heat and cold, like their lions once were, that he wonders why he didn’t see it at the beginning. But everything happens for a reason and he can’t live in the past and the what-ifs. He can take another day when he wasn’t graced by the beauty and presence of his lover to ponder endless possibilities and the what-ifs and the could-have-beens  _ (God, _ he sounded like Slav). 

 

Keith grins; a mischievous curl of his lips as he wraps his arms around Lance’s neck and promptly rolls them over, straddling Lance’s hips and sinking down on him like he was a fat, happy cat. And Lance finally remembers that Keith was very.. flexible. Not that he was thinking about anything kinky (okay, well, maybe a  _ little _ bit, okay? Lance was a young-ish and viral man), but it just came as a pleasant surprise. The hem, following the heated skin as he comes across it, rucking up his shirt. He pulls apart only to pull the shirt off, Keith lifting his arms to get it off easier and they overbalance, Keith falling backwards and Lance on top, both giggling. His mother always said if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex, why be with that person?

 

Keith’s hands played at the fringe of his shirt and slipped up, his eyes follows the site before he pulled off Lance’s shirt, throwing it off the bed, uncaring where it would land. His fingers trace his skin, curious and loving, following the lines of his collar bones to his shoulders. Lance lets him, waiting for his nonverbal okay. Keith pulls him down for a kiss and Lance goes easily, slotting his lips with Keith’s and laying his body along his. 

 

Keith’s touch slipped to his back, following the dip of his spine down as far as it could go and then back up with such sensuality it gave him goosebumps. The hand slipped up his neck and threaded through his hair, tugging gently. Lance’s own hands decided to explore Keith’s body, feeling up his heated skin. So lost in his exploration that he didn’t notice Keith minutely moving and the next thing he knew he was falling to the side and Keith was on top, his infuriating little smirk on his lips. But Lance couldn't find it in himself to mind, not when Keith was straddling his hips and stretching out over him like a lazy cat, caressing his cheek, his other hand playing with his hair. 

 

Keith’s hair spilled over his shoulders, rivers of wavy black that was only missing stars from the sky. 

 

Lance’s hand founds Keith’s hips as he dips down for another kiss, tugging his body in a gentle rock, urged by Lance’s own grip. Lance’s hands slide down his hips and down his thighs, only to slide back up more slowly, inching under the fabric of his shorts as he takes time to feel Keith’s skin under his touch. 

 

Keith was burning. Hot blooded and warm and brought comfort like he hadn’t known it before. Lance listened to his sighs and moans as his touches persisted, losing their pants to the floor in their tumble and finding the spots that made Keith lose himself to the passion. 

 

Keith was even hotter within as his fingers worked him open with reverence as Keith added kiss marks to his neck to show their mutual belonging to each other. And when they joined together, Lance knew that he didn’t regret waiting so long a single iota.

 

The tug of Keith’s body on top of him was nothing short of ineffable. Overwhelming in the best of ways. The joining of their bodies was to consummate their marriage, though there was no gap to be completed between them even without the sex. They had become one long ago and this was just the icing on the cake, to be able to feel this pleasure, this heat. 

 

To know each other biblically, it must be given without coercion, without resentment. It just went to show how much Keith trusted him and he would covet and protect this bond forever.

* * *

 

 

Lance woke up an indiscernible amount of time later. It was odd, though, because he could have sworn he slept barely a couple of hours before he woke and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He nearly scratched himself with the gem and he paused to look at the ring, smiling to himself as he gives it a kiss. Keith was next to him, still asleep, happily snoozing away with the remnants of the night’s extra curricular activities along his skin. Lance felt himself melt, petting his head lovingly. 

 

But what had woken him was not the sun, as it was still dark outside. Neither was it a need for thirst. Instead, what had woken him was a feeling. It took him another few moments before he realized what it was. 

 

Lance raises his eyes to the foot of the bed and pauses. 

 

“Allura?”

 

Lance asks, quietly, his heart skipping a beat and for half a second he felt like he had been caught cheating. He surveys the expression on her face, still dressed in her paladin armor, but otherwise looking fine without the wear and stress of impending doom hanging over her. She looked distraught, if only for the split second that he had the ridiculous feeling that he was caught cheating. And then it bled out as his own understanding came over him. Lance calmed, his soul stilled, and he smiled at her. 

 

Allura smiles back, eyes glancing from Lance to the hand in Keith’s hair. The ring. She calmly walks over to Keith’s side, sitting on the edge but moving nothing and Keith doesn’t stir. She places her hand over his and he looks down at it. The implication. The realization. His heart swells with gratitude and love. 

 

“Thank you, Allura.” 

 

Lance looks up to meet her eye and they stay in that moment for a few seconds longer. The ability to just  _ be _ haven been lost to them until now. 

 

_ I love you, Lance. _

 

Allura seems to say, but no words escape her mouth. Without speaking, he knows Allura can hear his response. 

 

_ I love you too, Allura.  _

 

Between the current breath and the next, she was gone. Lance would be sure he hallucinated her ever being there, except he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but calmed and loved. He smiles to himself, laying back down on his side, head propped up with his hand as he admires Keith as he rests. 

 

Keith was right. They will meet again. 

 

_ ‘Till we meet again, guys. _

**Author's Note:**

> _Soooooooo..... did it hurt as much as you were expecting?:3_   
>  _Next chapter will be more klance-centered. And far more comfort._
> 
>  
> 
> _If you like my work,[buy me a coffee!](http://buymeacoff.ee/xLWys1YhO)_


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